Page 8 of The Second Sight (Wanderlust Emporium Presents, Season One)

Chapter

Seven

KASI

Seven’s fingers dug into my upper arm as he steered me back toward the club entrance, his grip firm enough to bruise but careful not to break skin.

My legs felt disconnected from my body, moving forward only because he propelled me.

My mind was still reeling from everything I’d just learned.

Vampire. He mentioned my mother, but I knew she wasn’t a vampire.

Was she? The pieces refused to fit together in my alcohol-fogged brain.

“Not the main entrance,” he murmured, changing our direction abruptly. “The staff door.”

He guided me toward a nondescript metal door a few feet away from the main entrance.

It opened when he pulled the handle. It wasn’t locked?

A narrow corridor stretched before us, poorly lit and smelling of industrial cleaner.

My heels clicked against the concrete floor. The sound echoed off the walls.

Seven leaned down, his lips almost brushing my ear. His breath felt unnaturally cold against my skin, raising goosebumps down my neck.

“If you breathe a word of what you saw to anyone, especially your friend, I’ll hurt Brooklyn.” His voice was soft, almost tender, which somehow made the threat more terrifying. “She won’t see me coming. She won’t even have time to scream.”

I nodded, my throat too dry to form words. He already threatened me. My ears worked. I heard him the first time.

“Understand?” he pressed, his thumb into my skin.

“Yes,” I managed to whisper, hating how small my voice sounded. “I won’t tell her, or anybody.”

“Good.” Seven smiled, with his perfect teeth gleaming in the dim light.

“Now dry your eyes. You’re going to walk in there and act like nothing happened.

Like you got lost in the crowd, found me, and we had a pleasant conversation.

Your friend is probably worried sick, and worried friends ask questions. We don’t want questions, do we?”

I shook my head, reaching up to wipe away tears I hadn’t realized were falling. My hands trembled so badly I could barely control them. Was this real? Was any of this real? My dreams were so valid that I questioned if today was even my birthday.

I’d seen a vampire feeding. I’d been threatened, manhandled, told I wasn’t human. And now I had to walk back in there and pretend everything was fine. I had to lie to Brooklyn, my best friend since sixth grade, the one person I never kept secrets from.

We reached another door at the end of the corridor. The bass grew louder as we approached. Seven stopped, turning me around to face him. His pale eyes studied my face critically. With a strong tug, he pulled me into a small single bathroom that I hadn’t noticed before I was standing in it.

“You’re a mess,” he said, his tone clinical and detached. He reached into his pocket, producing a sleek white handkerchief. “Here.”

I took it hesitantly, the fabric unexpectedly soft between my fingers. I dabbed at my face, trying to erase the evidence of my terror. The handkerchief came away smudged with mascara, eyeliner and the last of the powder foundation that hadn’t completely melted away from sweat.

“Better,” Seven said, though his expression suggested I was still far from presentable. “Try to smile.”

I forced my lips to curve upward, but I could feel how unnatural it looked. Seven sighed, looking almost disappointed.

“It will have to do.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was both intimate and threatening. “Remember our agreement. Eight o’clock tomorrow at the Black Rose Café. And not a word to anyone.”

Seven turned the sink faucet on and used the same handkerchief to wash the dried blood from his face. After he checked himself in the mirror, he tossed the cloth into the wastebasket.

“Look, I have a reflection.” He smirked. I didn’t laugh. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to.

He pushed the door open and pulled me back into the hallway.

A few steps away was the door that led us into the main room of the club.

The full force of the club’s atmosphere hit me when we entered.

Strobe lights flashed in seizure-inducing patterns, transforming the crowd into a jerking mass of bodies.

The music was deafening, the bass so deep I felt it in my bones.

Seven’s hand moved from my arm to the small of my back, guiding me through the edge of the dance floor toward the back restrooms. His touch was lighter now, but no less controlling. I could feel the cold radiating from his palm through the thin fabric of my dress.

My heart hammered against my ribs so violently I was certain everyone could see it. My legs felt wooden and uncooperative, threatening to buckle with each step. The alcohol that had given me such pleasant confidence earlier now left me dizzy and disoriented.

I spotted Brooklyn before she saw me. She stood near the bathroom entrance.

Her face was tight with worry as she checked her phone for what was probably the hundredth time.

Her short dark hair had lost its volume.

She looked up, scanning the crowd, her eyes moving past me once before snapping back in recognition.

Relief broke across her face, quickly followed by annoyance. She pushed away from the wall and headed toward us. I had seconds to compose myself, to erase any trace of what had happened in that alley.

“Breathe,” Seven whispered against my ear, his voice somehow cutting through the music. “Smile. Act normal.”

I sucked in a deep breath, feeling my lungs expand. I rolled my shoulders back, trying to release some of the tension. I smoothed my little green dress with trembling hands. Normal. I could do normal. I’d been pretending everything was fine since I was fifteen years old.

Brooklyn was getting closer, her expression now a mixture of relief and suspicion as she spotted Seven beside me. She wore her emotions so openly. She always had. I envied that about her. Right now, I needed to be the opposite. I needed to appear controlled and convincing.

I focused on keeping my breathing steady, and on relaxing the muscles in my face. I wasn’t a girl who had just discovered vampires were real. I wasn’t a girl who’d been threatened and manhandled in a stinking, stanking alley. I was just Kasi, celebrating her twenty-first birthday.

“Remember,” Seven said, his voice so low I barely heard it.

Brooklyn reached us, her eyes moving between my face and Seven’s hand now resting on my hip. I forced my lips into what I hoped looked like a carefree smile, praying she couldn’t see how badly I was shaking inside.

“Where the hell did you go?” Brooklyn demanded.

Her eyes darted between my face and Seven’s hand snaked around my waist. “I’ve been looking everywhere!

I was about to call the cops!” Genuine concern mingled with irritation appeared on her face, making guilt rise like bile in my throat.

I’d never had to lie to Brooklyn before, not about anything important.

“I’m sorry,” I managed, forcing my voice to sound steady. “I got lost in the crowd after I left the bathroom.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I pushed through it. “Then I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Brooklyn’s eyes narrowed slightly, her head tilting in the way it always did when she sensed something wasn’t right. She knew me too well. “Your phone die or something? I texted you like twenty times.”

I reached into my purse and fumbled for my phone. The screen showed a string of increasingly frantic messages from Brooklyn.

“Sorry, it was on silent,” I said, avoiding her eyes. “I didn’t even think to look at it.”

Brooklyn’s attention shifted fully to Seven now, her protective instincts kicking in as she sized him up.

Her eyes traveled from his perfectly styled blonde hair to the lingering hand he still had placed possessively on my hip.

Her expression held a mix of appreciation for his obvious good looks and also suspicion of his intentions.

“And who are you?” she asked.

Before I could answer for him, Seven stepped slightly forward, extending his free hand toward Brooklyn.

“Severin Crackstone,” he said, his voice carried over the music without seeming to shout. “But everyone calls me Seven.” He smiled, displaying the full perfection of his attractive face. “I’m afraid I’m to blame for your friend’s disappearance.”

Brooklyn took his hand, and I watched her expression soften. Seven’s charm was working like magic.

“I spotted your friend Kasi near the bathroom and couldn’t resist talking to her,” Seven continued, releasing Brooklyn’s hand.

“I’m sorry for monopolizing her time. I should have realized she was here with someone.

” He sounded genuinely apologetic, his acting so flawless I almost believed it was Oscar-worthy.

“Brooklyn Deneer,” she replied, and I couldn’t believe she gave him her last name. Did she forget she was twenty-one, and not forty-one? “Kasi’s best friend.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Brooklyn,” Seven said, somehow making her name sound exotic and interesting. “Kasi was just telling me she’s in college.”

I hadn’t told him anything about my studies. Why did he even say that? All he knew was I attended college, which was out for the summer.

“Yeah, she’s super smart,” Brooklyn said. “Full scholarship and everything.”

Why was she telling all my business to this stranger?

“I was just about to invite Kasi to join me in the VIP section,” he said smoothly. “But I’d be delighted if you’d both come. My table has plenty of room, and the drinks are on me.”

Brooklyn twisted her lips. The VIP section was legendary at this club.

Brooklyn had done her research before she picked the Fountain of Youth nightclub to celebrate my birthday.

VIP here was exclusive, expensive, and nearly impossible to access unless you knew someone.

Seven had just dangled irresistible bait in front of her.

“VIP?” Brooklyn repeated. “For real?”

“Of course,” Seven said, as if offering access to exclusive club sections was something he did every day. Maybe it was. “Consider it my apology for stealing your friend.”

His hand slid around to my hip, and his fingers brushed my stomach. To Brooklyn, it probably looked like the casual touch of a man interested in me. To me, it felt like a mousetrap.

Seven’s light eyes found mine, and the message in them was unmistakable: Play along. Pretend. Keep your friend safe.

“Let’s continue our conversation somewhere more comfortable?” He offered.

Brooklyn was already ready. I forced my lips into a convincing smile. “Sure,” I said. “Sounds fun.”

“Perfect,” Seven replied with a smile. He kept his hand firmly on my hip as he gestured toward the far side of the club with his other hand. “This way, ladies.”

As we moved through the crowd, Seven positioned himself between Brooklyn and me, effectively separating us. Brooklyn walked slightly ahead, her excitement evident in her bouncing steps. Seven leaned down, his lips close to my ear again.

“Very good,” he murmured. “You’re a natural actress.”

I said nothing, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I felt trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t escape. I was being forced to smile and nod like everything was fine.

Brooklyn glanced back at us. Her face flushed with excitement. As we approached the velvet ropes that separated the VIP section from the rest of the club, I realized I was walking willingly into the lion’s den and bringing my best friend with me.

But what choice did I have? Seven knew my government name and Brooklyn’s too. The thought of what he might do if I refused made me terrified. I didn’t even know what he was truly capable of. For now, all I could do was play along and hope to find a way out of this nightmare.

Seven caught my eye and smiled. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice pitched for my ears alone. “You’re going to enjoy yourself.”

The VIP section was separated from the common areas by thick velvet ropes and an invisible barrier of exclusivity. A stern-faced bouncer stood guard at the entrance, his massive arms crossed over his chest. His eyes scanned the crowd. When he spotted Seven approaching, his demeanor shifted subtly.

“Mr. Crackstone,” the bouncer acknowledged, unclipping the rope without hesitation.

“Nick,” Seven replied with a casual nod.

The atmosphere changed immediately, as if we’d stepped through a portal into another world.

The music was still audible but muffled enough for conversation.

The lighting was subdued, creating pools of warmth rather than the disorienting strobe effects of the main floor.

Plush leather couches and low glass tables replaced the crowded standing areas out on the main floor.

Even the people sitting at the other tables around us looked different. Their clothes were more polished, and their jewelry looked expensive.

Brooklyn’s eyes were wide with wonder, her head swiveling to take it all in. I would have been equally impressed under normal circumstances. Now, I was too focused on the cold hand at my waist and the growing sense that I was walking deeper into danger with every step.